


Get Elfed

by debwalsh



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Fluff, Elf/Human Relationship(s), Fluff, Gift Exchange, Gift Fic, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, elf bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 23:38:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17151203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/debwalsh/pseuds/debwalsh
Summary: When Steve Rogers wakes to find a beautiful elf in his living room, he discovers being on Santa’s Nice List just might come with some special perks.A gift fic for Parrannnah for the stevebucky gift exchange!





	Get Elfed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Parrannnah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parrannnah/gifts).



> I had so much fun with this and my other gift exchange stories. I will definitely be participating in more gift exchanges next year!
> 
> The prompt information I got for this exchange was: All ratings welcome, I love AU's especially, fluff is great, humor is even better, smut is always welcome if thats something you're comfortable with, give me all the tropes, and Crack Treated Seriously is awesome.
> 
> Well, it’s a fluffy AU that I hope has some humor, and it sure seemed like Crack Treated Seriously to me. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it, Parrannnah!

If someone asked him later what woke him, Steve would not have been able to say.  One moment, he was nestled snug in his bed, dreaming dreams that made him feel warm, secure, and loved.   
  
That should have been his first clue that something was off.   
  
The next moment he was wide awake, suddenly aware of sounds in the next room.  The likelihood of someone belonging in his apartment was nil, considering he’d broken up with his boyfriend of two years earlier that week, and been sure to reclaim his key.   
  
In other words, there wasn’t anyone who should be rummaging around his living room at ... three in the morning?   
  
He flung back his comforter, rolled out of bed, resettled his t-shirt, hitched up his sleep pants, shoved his feet into his R2-D2 slippers, and crept out to the living room.   
  
Only to be met with a vision: A tall, well-built man dressed in skin-tight black leggings and a knitted tunic that looked like all the Christmas sweaters of the last decade were having a convention, and pointed-toed black leather boots.  Steve could see his reflection caught in the entryway mirror, and what he saw made his mouth go dry at the same time he was ready to drool. The man’s - the intruder’s - face was arresting, high cheekbones, gorgeous gray-blue eyes, luxurious lashes, a mouth made for sin, a delightfully dimpled chin, all framed by dark hair tucked up under a curious looking black brimmed hat.  While Steve watched, that vision pulled off the hat and shook out a mane of gloriously shiny long hair, hair that Steve suddenly had the urge to run his fingers through and bury his nose in simultaneously, gently smooth back the tendrils curling around his pointed ears -   
  
Pointed ears.   
  
Pointed ears?    
  
“You’re an elf,” Steve breathed in disbelief.   
  
The vision wheeled on him, eyes wide with surprise, but it only took a heartbeat - a heart beating fast and hard in Steve’s chest, because, just look at this guy! - for those delicious lips to slide into a sly smirk as his eyes narrowed appraisingly.   
  
“That’s head elf to you,” Tall, Dark, and Elven corrected haughtily, humor dancing merrily in his eyes.   
  
“In my living room,” Steve pointed out reasonably, sure that when he went to bed last night, his living room was an elf-free zone.   
  
The head elf shrugged. “Had a report of disruption in the naughty/nice field balance here,” he replied, waving one hand vaguely toward the four walls of Steve’s admittedly spartan living room.   
  
Steve couldn’t contain the snort that erupted out of him at that assessment.  “I’ll bet. I just broke up with my boyfriend. Pretty sure he was naughty.”   
  
“Cheat on you?”   
  
“Yeah.”   
  
“Tried to rough you up when you caught him at it?”   
  
“Said a lotta nasty shit, too.”   
  
“And you kicked that fucker’s lying, cheating, passive-aggressive ass outta here?”   
  
“Yep.”   
  
“Yeah, that’d do it.  Steep drop in the naughty level combined with a genuinely nice guy would’a tripped the nice meter into overdrive.  So, are you a nice guy?”   
  
“I try to be a good person.”   
  
“Okay, nice guy and good person aren’t exactly the same thing.  Lotta guys define themselves as a ‘good guy’ or a ‘nice guy,’ but they have expectations.”   
  
“Expectations?”   
  
“Yeah, like, ‘I’m a nice guy, so she should totally put out after I buy her an expensive dinner’ kind of shit.”   
  
“Now you’re just being gross.”   
  
“Yeah?  That how you see it?”   
  
“I buy someone a nice dinner, all they owe me is to be decent about it.  Maybe a thank you. Be honest about whether they want another date.”   
  
“No kiss at the end to seal the deal?”   
  
“Ain’t a business transaction.”   
  
“Right.  And how’d you define a perfect date?”   
  
“April 26, not too warm, not too cold -“   
  
“Hah! Yeah, Miss Congeniality’s a classic.  But seriously. If you were tryin’a woo the guy of your dreams, what would you plan?”   
  
“First, I’d have to know what he liked.  Wouldn’t be perfect if it wasn’t perfect for him.”   
  
“Huh.  And how’d you figure that?”   
  
“I’d listen.  Pay attention.  Ask questions. Gently - no interrogations.  Try stuff out to figure out what he likes. Then I’d plan something around that - something romantic, something fun, something that would make him happy.  Because if I wanted a perfect date for someone, making him happy would make me happy.”   
  
“Okay.  Now we’re getting somewhere.  No expectations, listens well, cares about what makes his partner happy.  So ... what’re you looking for in the perfect guy?”   
  
“Well, first of all, it doesn’t have to be a guy. I’m bi, well, maybe pan more than that.  Package doesn’t matter to me. I can be attracted to anyone.”   
  
“Yeah?  Anyone?”   
  
“Potentially.”   
  
“Adolph Hitler.”   
  
“Hit ‘im over 200 times.  Hard pass.”   
  
“Oh, yeah.  That’s right.  You’re an actor.  You did that play thing.”   
  
“You know my work?”   
  
“I have a passing familiarity.  Okay, let’s try again.”   
  
“Is this like sexual 20 questions?”   
  
“Do you want it to be?”   
  
“I wanna know why the head elf is interested in knowing who I’d date.”   
  
“It’s research.  For science.”   
  
“Yeah?  What kinda science?”   
  
“North Pole kinda science.  So, Sandra Bullock.”   
  
“I had posters of her up in my room when I was 12.  She’s still a babe, and she’s cool. Yes.”   
  
“Oh.  Huh. Um ... Donald Trump.”   
  
Steve just gave the head elf a look that would have blistered paint.     
  
“I’m gonna take that as a no.”   
  
“That’s be a hell the fuck no.”   
  
“Cool, cool.  Oh - Donald Glover!’   
  
“In a heartbeat.  Got his number?”   
  
“I’ll give you his nu -“ the elf muttered under his breath.   
  
“What was that?”   
  
“I said no. Sorry.  Can’t give that kind of information out.  Privacy policy and all that.”   
  
“Uh-huh.  You sure you’re supposed to be here?”   
  
“Yes, absolutely.  The ending of your relationship with the douche canoe created a disturbance in the, um. Force.”   
  
“That’s Star Wars.”   
  
“Is it?”   
  
“Yep,” Steve replied, savoring the P.   
  
“Yeah, well, it’s a universal concept.  People get the Force. It’s easier than explaining the neural network that links the whole planet, and the energy fields that are created by emotion -“   
  
“Pretty sure you’re making that up.”   
  
“Pretty sure you can’t prove that.”   
  
“Speaking of proving something, how about some ID, mister?  How do I know you’re an elf?”   
  
The head elf tugged on the points of his ears and made a face.  “Pretty sure these are a dead giveaway.”   
  
“People do consensual body mods all the time now.  You can get your ears elfed at a place down on Fulton.”   
  
“Get my ears elfed?  Elfed! Geeze, is there no respect left in the world?  Elfed? That’s racist, that is. I’ll have you know that pointed ears are not limited to elves.”   
  
“You’re the one who pointed to them as proof.  Now, ID?”   
  
Grumbling to himself, the elf extracted a billfold from somewhere impossible, considering how tight his leggings were.  Steve did finally get a nice, if brief, view of the guy’s ass. And dayum! The elf handed an official looking laminated card to Steve with a flourish.   
  
“Bucky?”   
  
“Yeah?”   
  
“That’s your name?  Lemme guess, you got a friend named Biff.”   
  
“Biff works in Accounting.  We’re not exactly on speaking terms.”   
  
“I’ll bet he does.  No, seriously, is Bucky your real name?”   
  
“It’s a nickname.  Real name’s James Buchanan Barnes, my little sister started calling me Bucky and it stuck.  Too many Jameses at the Pole, and I don’t like Jimmy. So Bucky it is.”   
  
“Hmm.  I kinda like it.”   
  
“Yeah?”   
  
“Yeah.  Okay, so it says here that you’re Head of North Pole Logistics and Emotiweb Analysis.  Wait, so that hand-wavey science thing’s legit?”   
  
“What, you thought I made that up?”   
  
“Kinda.”   
  
“Well, you can make it up to me by answering some more questions.”   
  
“Well, okay.  Since I doubted you and all.  Shoot.”   
  
“How about ... Chris Hemsworth?”   
  
“He’s okay.”   
  
“Okay? Okay?”   
  
“I tend to like brunettes.”   
  
“Oh.  Oh, really?”   
  
“Um, yeah.”   
  
“And you like women and men.”   
  
“Ye-eah.”   
  
“How about elves?”   
  
“Elves.”   
  
“Yeah, you’re not xenophobic, are you?”   
  
“Until I met you, I didn’t believe elves were real.  So I don’t really have an opinion. I mean, are elves, you know, functionally the same?”   
  
“As what?”   
  
“Humans.  I mean, you’re beautiful and all, but those tights are really, well, tight.  I can’t tell if you’ve got -“   
  
“Oh.  You been checking me out?” Bucky grinned and struck a pose.   
  
Steve shook his head.  “Those tights don’t leave much to the imagination, but they don’t reveal anything either -“   
  
“Ever heard of compression underwear?  I work at Santa’s Workshop at the North Pole, buddy.  G-rated for the kiddies. Can’t very well have the boys out swinging for all to see, now can I?”   
  
“Well, when you put it that way, I guess not.  But are you -“   
  
“Anatomically the living equivalent of a Ken doll?  No. Am I hung like the proverbial horse? Well, that’s something I only reveal to the right fella.”   
  
“Fella.”   
  
“Yeah, I’m a gay elf.  That okay with you?”   
  
“Um, yeah, sure.  Um, how would that work?”   
  
“What?  Gay sex?”   
  
“No, I’ve got a pretty good idea of that.  No. Dating. An elf. And, um, a human.”   
  
“Dating is dating, dude.”   
  
“No, but North Pole.  I live in Brooklyn. Not exactly a quick train ride away.”   
  
“Ah.  So you are interested.  Nice. And. Well. Y’see, being head of North Pole Logistics has its perks.  As in teleport.”   
  
“Teleport.”   
  
“Teleport.  I can be anywhere in the world in the blink of an eye.  Wanna see?”   
  
“Um, sure?“   
  
The elf - Bucky - tapped something into what looked like an Apple Watch on his wrist, and then suddenly Steve’s living room was empty of one head elf.   
  
And he had to admit to himself - never to Bucky - that he was sorry to see the beautiful elf go.  Because even as he gave him grief, the last little while with Bucky was some of the most enjoyable time Steve had spent in longer than he cared to calculate.  And he not only felt attracted to Bucky, he felt connected to him in ways he’d never experienced with anyone before. Almost like they were destined to be together.  Which was. You know. As crazy as an elf. Who works at the North Pole. And who teleports?   
  
Steve didn’t really celebrate Christmas since his Ma died.  Did that make him like, ineligible to date an elf?   
  
“Miss me?” he heard suddenly from behind him, and he practically jumped out of his skin.     
  
“Where’d you go?”   
  
“New Orleans.  Was craving some beignets,” he answered, shoving a still warm sack of the pastries at Steve.  “I know an all-night beignet place.”   
  
“Of course you do,” Steve answered as he fished out a beignet and sank his teeth into it, moaning in pleasure.   
  
Bucky preened, and Steve would also swear he blushed at the same time his pupils dilated a bit.  Steve would be lying if he said he wasn’t laying it on a bit thick, and enjoying the way that Bucky stared at him, his tongue slowly dragging over his lower lip before he sucked it into his mouth to bite at it absently.     
  
“‘s’good,” Steve said around a mouthful of doughy goodness.     
  
Bucky’s eyes were following the bob of Steve’s adam’s apple as he swallowed.  “When you’re the head elf, you got connections.”   
  
“Uh-huh.”   
  
“Just sayin’.  You could do worse.  Hell, you have done worse.”   
  
Licking his fingers, Steve chuckled.  “Don’t remind me. And hey, how much do you know about my love life?”   
  
Bucky shrugged. “All I’d need to know is Rumlow to know you’ve had a checkered past.  Bad luck. Crap self-preservation. Really terrible -“   
  
“How’d you know my ex was Brock Rumlow?”   
  
“Nice list. Naughty list. No guesses which list he’s on. Thirty fucking years running now.”   
  
“He told me he was 28.”   
  
Bucky the elf just looked at Steve with a frighteningly elevated eyebrow.   
  
“Okay, okay.  I get it. I don't make the best decisions when it comes to partners.  How are you different?”   
  
“I make you laugh.  And that’s important to me.  I listen, too. I’ve been listening to you since you were three years old.”   
  
“Listening to me what?”   
  
“Pray.  For peace.  For justice.  For your Mom. I’m sorry about her, by the way.  You never really asked Santa for stuff for you, but you always had a request for someone else’s benefit.  Whenever you send a wish or a hope up to the ether, it gets caught in the Emotiweb. Part of my job is to listen.  When I heard you, I started listening closely. I heard you.”   
  
“Wait, you’ve been listening to me since I was three?  How old are you?”   
  
“Old enough.”   
  
“Old enough for ...?”   
  
“For whatever you wanna do.”   
  
“Aren’t you maybe a little too old for me?”   
  
“Folks at the North Pole don’t age at the same pace as people on the outside.  Living at the North Pole is like living outside of time. It’s sort of a space-time conundrum.”   
  
“Wait, like a TARDIS?”   
  
Bucky bobbed his head from side to side, making a sort-of agreeing noise.  “Kind of. Yeah, actually. A TARDIS operates out of its own reality, which, yeah. The North Pole is sort of a pocket dimension where time moves at a different speed than here.”   
  
“That puts you at an advantage over me -“   
  
“That works for me.”   
  
“Yeah?”   
  
“Yeah.  I mean, if you’re into that sort of thing.  Which, y’know, I can be. But if you like to, y’know, be in charge, I could be into that, too.”   
  
“You’re really doing it.  You’re flirting with me.”   
  
“What’d you think I was doing?  Daily affirmations?”   
  
“Don’t knock the power of positive thinking, man.”   
  
“I’m pretty positive we could be good for each other.”   
  
“Been thinking that long?”   
  
“It’s been growing on me.”   
  
“Yeah?  You are kind of cute.”   
  
“Y’think so?”   
  
“You know I do.  But ... how do I know this is real?  I mean ... elves. Who don’t age. Who can teleport to all-night beignet places.  Who listen to my prayers -“   
  
“You’re the answer to mine, Steve.  And it’s not that I don’t age. Living at the North Pole, remember?  And ... I don’t have to stay an elf. I can ... I can let it go. For you.”   
  
“I wouldn’t ask that of you.”   
  
“That’s why I can offer.  I know you’d never take advantage of me.  But if it’s the right thing for us ... it’s something I am very willing to do.”   
  
“Wow.  Um, this is all moving very fast.  I ... don’t know. I mean, you are gorgeous.  And I am definitely attracted to you. But I just broke up with someone who seemed perfect at first, but he ...”   
  
His light seemed to dim a little as Bucky nodded.  “No, I get it. I’m not going to pressure you. I would never treat you that way.  Just ... know that somewhere out in the world, someone loves you, Steve,” he added, leaning in close to brush his lips against Steve’s, a sweet and gentle press that left Steve unexpectedly breathless.   
  
&&&   
  
Steve woke up to a shaft of light streaming through his curtains directly into his eyes.  He groaned, rubbing his fists against his eyes, stretching luxuriously inside the warm cocoon of his covers.   
  
And all at once it seemed like every muscle in his body locked up tight.   
  
His lips tingled.   
  
His eyes opened wide as he breathed one word.   
  
Bucky.   
  
&&&   
  
Steve couldn’t explain the depth of disappointment that chilled him when he found his living room empty, no sign of his early morning visitor.  He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but somehow he thought he was going to find a glass slipper or something that would lead him to Bucky here in the real world.     
  
So, clearly he’d been dreaming, dreaming of a beautiful man with eyes he could get lost in, with a heart to beat in time with his ...   
  
“Santa, I’ve been good this year,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes closed to the tears that threatened to fall.   
  
&&&   
  
Standing in line to order his morning coffee, Steve felt hollowed out. Like that dream that had seemed so real had somehow taken something from him.  Something, someone, he knew now that he wanted, but who was only the product of a lonely mind.   
  
“Next?” the barista called, and Steve stepped up to place his order.  He was just about to pay when a hand reached around and laid cash on the counter in front of him.   
  
“I’ve got it,” said a thrillingly familiar voice just next to his ear.  He held his breath, afraid to turn and see that he was wrong. He felt a warm puff of air against his ear as that voice said softly, “I heard you. I’ll always hear you.”   
  
Steve turned slowly, the smile on his face expanding until he felt his face must explode with the force and glory of it.  “And I will always say yes.”   
  
Bucky smiled back at him with equal fervor, and then their lips were sealed together.   
  
“Um, guys, y’wanna step to the side there?  Like, let somebody else order, maybe? Um, hey, I guess I’ll open up this register over here ...”   
  
  
END   


**Author's Note:**

> And so ends my first season of gift exchanges! I really enjoyed this a lot, and it was so lovely to receive such wonderful stories. I’ve got a couple more holiday-themed stories in the pipeline that my Patreon patrons will get to see first, and of course WIPs. I haven’t forgotten, and I promise I’ll be working on them! As if I could turn my back on these boys!
> 
> Hope you have a wonderful holiday season, wherever you are and whatever holidays you celebrate. Thanks for reading!


End file.
